


We'll Keep On Fighting

by NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Operation Drown Out the Angst With Fluff, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable/pseuds/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some domestic Captain Swan fluff set sometime in the future, because I need them happy like I need oxygen right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Keep On Fighting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

**** “Of the world!”

The sudden singing startled her awake, pulling her from a deep and comfortable sleep, his voice booming all through the house from somewhere downstairs.

“What the hell…” she muttered as she pulled back the covers.

The song continued as she padded down the hallway and down the stairs, recorded voices mixing with one a little closer, a little more live.   _ Alive, _ she still couldn’t help marvelling, even after all these weeks.

“It’s been no bed of roses, no pleasure cruise, I consider it a challenge - Oh, good morning, Emma!” Killian exclaimed as she stepped into the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee and cooking pancakes filling her nose. He was standing in front of the stove, a spatula in his hand held up like a microphone in front of his slowly reddening cheeks.  He quickly nudged the tablet with his elbow, silencing the music.

“What are you doing?” she asked, wiping sleep from her eyes, sleep she had been really enjoying until the kook of her boyfriend - Captain actual Hook - interrupted her with his beautiful, but  _ loud, _ singing voice.  He usually woke early, preferring to start his day with the sight of the growing sun on the horizon, but he usually respected her need to sleep in on the weekends.

Usually.

He didn’t usually make private concerts in the kitchen while cooking.

He recovered his composure quickly.  “Just making breakfast, love,” he said, indicating to the stack of fresh pancakes on a plate beside the stove.

“No, I mean the singing,” she said as she sank bonelessly into the chair at the table.  “What time is it, anyway?”

He glanced at the digital clock on the stove.  “8:35, I really didn’t mean to wake you, Emma.”  She yawned, blearily pointing in the direction of the counter.  “Mmmph…” she mumbled, unwilling - or unable, she never could tell at this abnormally early hour - to articulate further.

He knew, knew exactly what she wanted, and in a moment he’d set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her, smelling exactly the way he knew she liked it.  He kissed her forehead softly, “Sorry.”

She held the mug in her hands, her eyes closed, allowing the steam to hit her face, the aroma of his special mix of maple syrup and vanilla with hazelnut coffee to hit her nostrils.  “You’re forgiven.”  She took a sip, groaning softly as the flavours hit just the right spot.  “My saviour,” she murmured into her cup.

He grinned and turned back to the stove, removing the pancakes from the pan and pouring in a new batch.

“Why the music?” she asked, feeling the effects of the coffee already waking her.  “You don’t usually sing like that around the house.”  He often played a classical mix she’d helped him compile while working on the Jolly and, while he had a great voice, he tended to stick to slower, softer songs, ones hummed almost under his breath as he captained his ship, or murmured in her ear as they sat together under the stars at night, not belted at the top of his lungs in the kitchen.

He shrugged, his back still to her as he worked.  “Henry recommended the song, thought I’d find the lyrics meaningful.”

“I guess he was right?”

Killian just nodded, but he didn’t turn around as he removed the food to the plate to cool, switching off the burner.

“Killian?” she asked hesitantly.  Surely the finished pancakes didn’t take so much of his attention.  “Are you okay?”

He sighed softly, and that’s when she knew he wasn’t.  She stood, coffee abandoned as she slid beside him and wrapped her arm around his waist.  She looked up at him and he turned to face her, his hookless brace circling her back.  He smiled, but it wavered a bit too much at the edges.

“It’s us, Emma,” he murmured.

She didn’t answer, a confused look the only expression she could manage.

“The song,” he explained.  “We are the champions.”

She would have laughed if he hadn’t looked so  _ serious _ .  “The champions, us?  Killian, I don’t-”

He started singing softly, his eyes never leaving hers.  “We are the champions, my love.  And we’ll keep on fighting till the end.  We are the champions, we are  _ survivors _ , no time for losers, ‘cause we are the champions of the world.”

She smiled at him.

“Keep going,” she whispered, moisture building behind her eyelids as she watched him.  He nodded.

“We’ve paid our dues,” he continued quietly.  “Time after time, we’ve done our sentence, but committed no crime.”  She thought of her stint in jail for watches she hadn’t stolen, and his brutal incarceration under Hades thumb, times she wished hadn’t happened, but were such a part of who they were, now.  “And bad mistakes, we’ve made a few,” he grinned, tilting his head to the side slightly, his dimples deepening.  “We’ve had our share of sand kicked in our face but we’ve come through.”

And they had.  No matter the odds and how high they were stacked against them, they’d seemed to always make it through, and find themselves stronger for it.  Like now.

“I’ve taken my bows, and my curtain call,” his voice clear, the words especially painful after all the times he’d died over the last year.  She reached up to touch his face, and the light, almost invisible, scar at his neck.  “You brought me love and family and everything that goes with it, I thank you all.”  She raised her eyebrows at the change in lyrics, but her mouth opened to join in, the words easily remembered even after so many years.  “It’s been no bed of roses,” she sang with him, their voices blending pleasantly.  “No pleasure cruise.  I consider it a challenge before the whole human race and I’m not gonna lose.”

He broke off with a laugh.  “See what I mean, love?  This song might as well have been written for us, especially after everything we’ve been through.”

“You’re right,” she agreed.  “Henry has good taste.  Just how many times have you listened to it already?”

“Enough.”  He winked at her, releasing his hold on her to reach to the counter and tap the music back on.  He threw his head back with the song, belting the next line at the top of his lungs.

“And we mean to go on and on and on and on!”

She giggled, raising her voice to join him in a loud chorus as he swung her around the small kitchen, narrowly avoiding obstacles as they danced and sang.

“We are the champions, of the world!”

The song ended, and she leaned into his chest out of breath, the sound of his heartbeat thudding rhythmically against her ear.

“Thank you, for fighting for me, for us,” she whispered.

“Thank you for giving me the choice,” he answered honestly, his hand rubbing her back gently.  “As I said before, I’ll never stop fighting for us, you know that.”

She pulled her head back to look up at him.  “I know, it’s just nice to _ know _ , you know?”

He laughed quietly.  “I do, love.  I definitely do.”


End file.
